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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/23849737">truth so loud you can't ignore</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/earlymorningechoes/pseuds/earlymorningechoes'>earlymorningechoes</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>esther hawke: ringing joyful and triumphant [3]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age II</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Cuddling &amp; Snuggling, Demiromantic Character, Developing Relationship, F/F, Fluff</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-04-26</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-04-26</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-02 20:54:01</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,139</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/23849737</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/earlymorningechoes/pseuds/earlymorningechoes</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Merrill and Esther are feeling out what being in a relationship means. This ends up being a much different conversation than Merrill was expecting.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Female Hawke/Merrill</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>esther hawke: ringing joyful and triumphant [3]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/703389</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>2</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>14</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>truth so loud you can't ignore</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Prompted by @dearophelia on tumblr (back in 2017, apparently, sorry for the delay!)</p>
<p>Title from the song Youth by Troye Sivan.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>It’s two weeks after their first kiss - the one Merrill initiated - when Merrill realizes that Esther doesn’t know how to do this. They’re in Merrill’s tiny house, just the two of them, curled up on the bed and talking. The air’s cold, a frosty Firstfall day, but there’s a fire in the hearth and they’re curled up under the bright patchwork quilt that’s one of the few things Merrill still has from her birth clan. </p>
<p>But Esther, bright and loud and ever-moving, is holding herself very stiffly, propped against the wall. Every time Merrill asks if she’s okay, she smiles and says yes, of course, this is wonderful, but it niggles at Merrill’s thoughts until she can’t take it anymore. </p>
<p>“You’ve been with lots of people,” she says, not a question, “like Isabela.” Her hands twist together of their own accord, a habit she sometimes wishes she could stop. She keeps her eyes pointed at Esther’s chin, enough to see her reaction but not so much that she has to look her in the eye. Still, whatever words she was going to say next fly out of her head.</p>
<p>Esther’s eyes narrow, in what Merrill thinks is confusion. Or maybe uncertainty. “I’ve, uh, slept with lots of people.” Her voice is thin, brittle, unusual, like she’s afraid of what she’s saying. “But I’ve never done...<em> this </em> before.” Her hands don’t twist together like Merrill’s do, but instead pluck at the patchwork blanket, running along the seams. They’re calloused in a familiar pattern, from holding a staff, but without the myriad of scars that litter Merrill’s own. </p>
<p>She wants to reach out and hold them. Maybe they’d both be less frightened. But she doesn’t, not yet. “Never done what, exactly?” There’s an idea, worming its way into her head, but she doesn’t want to push. Whatever it is, she’s probably wrong. </p>
<p>A blush creeps across Esther’s cheeks - unusual indeed. “I, uh.” The quilt flashes between her fingers, faded pink and yellow and green. “I don’t just want to sleep with you. I mean -” she chuckles, sounds a little more like herself for a moment - “I do want to. But not <em> just </em> to sleep with you. And I’ve never really...felt like this, before?” She doesn’t look at Merrill, looks anywhere else - at the broken mirror shard on the table, the small shelf of books, the fire. “I don’t know how to want this. How to do this.”</p>
<p>The words float in the icy air. Merrill’s heart flips over, confusion and compassion and whatever her feelings are for Esther all tangled up. “Never?” Even when she had thought it might be something like inexperience - something Esther is loath to ever admit to - she’d never expected <em> never</em>. </p>
<p>The next laugh that pops out of Esther is hollow, bitter, unlike her. “You’ve found a thing I’ve never done. Good for you! Now just like everyone else, you can tell me I’m broken.” Another laugh. “Magic. This. It’s always something.” Her voice is loud and searing, mean and cutting, and Merrill’s instinctive reaction is to run away. There’s that inability to deal with inexperience.</p>
<p>She’s not going to run away. Esther’s hands are still picking at the seams of the blanket, so instead of going to hold one, she lays hers down next to them. Small, tawny-brown next to Esther’s larger, olive-gold ones. “You’re not broken,” she says. She can’t find anything else to say, no matter how much she wants to.</p>
<p>There’s no reply, but Esther’s hands still on the blanket after a few minutes. She doesn’t apologize for yelling at Merrill, doesn’t reach out to hold Merrill’s hand, but eventually she looks up. If Esther were the type of person to cry, Merrill would expect her to be crying right now, but she’s not. “Have you?”</p>
<p>It takes Merrill some time to parse out what the question’s asking, but then she nods. “A few times. Once at Arlathvhen, when I was fourteen - there was a girl from another clan. She had the most beautiful hair.” Her voice is rueful, and she reaches up to tug on her short braids. </p>
<p>“Your hair’s beautiful,” Esther interrupts. Her direct, intense stare is hard enough when it’s not directed at Merrill, but with the full force of it, Merrill feels like she might be swept away. </p>
<p>“Oh!” Now it’s Merrill’s turn to blush, and she tugs at the braids again. They’re starting to look a little raggedy, and she’ll have to redo them soon. They definitely don’t feel beautiful, especially not in the sense of how she remembers that girl from the last Arlathvhen. “Well, I don’t really know, they’re falling apart now anyways, and I’ll have to take so much time to put them back in - wait, I’m babbling again, I’m sorry. Thank you, that’s very sweet of you.” Her hands are twisted in her lap again. She pulls them apart. </p>
<p>“You’re welcome.” Esther’s voice is a little lighter, a little less fraught. </p>
<p>Plowing ahead, Merrill continues. “She was from another clan, obviously, or I’d have met her before - not that Arlathvhen is the only time we meet other clans, obviously, that would be quite silly, it’s just the largest - sorry, where was I again?”</p>
<p>This laugh isn’t as bright or booming as normal, but it’s not hollow, bitter, broken. And it’s kind, laughing with, not laughing at. “The girl?”</p>
<p>“Oh, right!” Merrill giggles too. “She was just so beautiful. And older than me, too. I followed her around like a lost puppy, that’s what I did.”</p>
<p>“Dalish have lost puppies?” Her tone is teasing. Now she does slip her hand into Merrill’s, and Merrill feels her heart soar.</p>
<p>“Not really! Especially not mabari - I’d never seen one until yours. That’s a saying I picked up from Varric, I think.” She leans over to rest her head on Esther’s shoulder. “Anyways. I tried to talk to that girl - Mihris was her name - but I was just so awkward, I don’t think she ever really understood me.”</p>
<p>With another laugh, almost normal, Esther presses a kiss to the top of her head. “Do I understand you?” she asks, playful.</p>
<p>Merrill nods, vigorously. “More than most.” She squeezes Esther’s hand, wriggling closer under the blanket. “It doesn’t matter to me what you haven’t done. We’re figuring out lots of things already. We can figure out more.”</p>
<p>They lapse into silence, the only sounds the crackle of the fire in the hearth and the wind rattling the door. It’s quiet, and just warm enough, and Merrill finds herself drifting off to sleep in Esther’s arms. But there’s a rustle in her hair, like Esther’s whispering something, and she strains her ears to hear.</p>
<p>“Thank you,” Esther says, and Merrill’s wide awake again.</p>
<p>“Of course,” she says, shifting to her left so she can face Esther more head-on. “Absolutely.”</p>
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